Nathan Jones - Shortage

Sam hugged him back tightly, lifting her bruised face to look at him with tearful eyes as she raised onto her toes to press her lips to his. “I love you,” she whispered, resting her head against his shoulder. “Don’t you dare die out there or I’ll never forgive you!”

He reluctantly backed away, doing his best to hide his fear that if he left he’d come back to find a tragedy. Before he went he took a moment to tie up the kid he’d punched out and check the looter he’d hit with the club. From the looks of things tying that one up wouldn’t be necessary, so Matt dragged him out of the house with some effort and hid him in the shed.

He came back outside to find Sam standing on the porch holding the shotgun. “Take this with you,” she insisted. “You’ll need it more than we will, and Terry can use it to defend his family.”

Matt nodded and strode over to take it. He’d completely forgot about the weapon. Sam gave him one last anguished look before ducking back into the house to kneel comfortingly beside his mother, although she still gripped the revolver tightly.

By running through backyards and staying behind cover Matt was able to make it to Tom Watts’s house without running into any more looters. When he threw open the door he nearly got sprayed by Terry, who was crouched behind the couch with a can aimed at him. He could hear the sounds of his nephews asking anxious questions somewhere upstairs while his sister frantically hushed them.

“Matt!” his brother-in-law exclaimed, lowering the spray with relief. “What’s going on out there? All we’ve heard is gunshots and screaming. It sounds like a war zone.”

“Razor is attacking the town with dozens of men,” Matt answered. Upstairs he could hear his nephews shouting his name with relief and excitement, and ignoring April’s angry shouts for him to come back Aaron came bursting down the stairs to throw his arms around Matt’s waist, staring at the shotgun he held with wide eyes.

Matt hugged his nephew tight for a moment, then pried his arms free. “Go back upstairs,” he said sternly. The boy started to complain and he made his voice even more firm. “Now. This is important.”

Sulking, Aaron stomped back up the stairs. In a way Matt was relieved that the child didn’t realize how serious the situation was, and hoped he wouldn’t have to see anything that changed that. He locked the door behind him and posted up beside the window, handing the shotgun to Terry and pulling out his Glock as he stared outside. He didn’t see anyone out there.

Calming down a bit, he explained everything that had happened, loud enough for April to hear upstairs, as he continued to keep watch. In spite of his relief at finding his sister’s family safe he kept seeing his mom struggling to breathe and Sam’s bruised face and reliving what he’d seen when he came through the door. It was safe here for the moment, but his parents’ house was only a block from where the fighting was thickest. Now that Terry had the shotgun and Matt saw that things were quiet here his instincts screamed for him to get back home.

Terry seemed to understand. “We seem to be out of the fighting here,” he offered. “We’ll do our best to stay hidden, and if anyone comes after us we’ve got the bear spray and this.” He said that last while lifting the shotgun a bit.

Matt nodded. “Stay safe. And once this is all over try to get to our house. I’m worried about Mom.”

After receiving a few fearful farewells he ducked out of the house and started back the way he’d come. But he’d only gone a block before a commotion ahead drew him out of the Millers’ backyard to peer at the street from behind a fence.

Razor and a dozen men were retreating down it, ducking from cover to cover and shooting back towards the storehouse. It looked as if their attempts to pin down Catherine and the others had failed, which was good news. The fact that they’d retreated past Matt’s house was also possibly good news, as long as they hadn’t taken a detour and no stray shots had caused Sam and his mom trouble.

“Go around!” Razor abruptly yelled at a couple of his thugs, shoving them. “Come on, guys, we’ve got the entire town and they’re following us along one street! Haven’t you idiots heard of flanking?”

Matt stiffened as the two thugs bolted for the house one down from the Millers, vaulting the fence not ten feet from him. He still had 13 rounds in his last magazine, assuming it had been loaded to capacity. Since both were carrying guns he couldn’t let them sneak around behind the others and catch them by surprise, so he raised his Glock and fired.

One went down with a surprised cry of pain while the other ducked down behind the fence, cursing. Matt tried shooting at the fence itself, but he wasn’t sure if he hit anything since the cursing continued. He was about to duck back behind his own fence and try to find a new place to shoot from when motion from the street caught his eye and he saw Razor pointing his small caliber pistol at him.

There was no time to do anything but let his legs buckle and drop behind the fence. He heard a quieter gunshot and something tugged at his hair, and then he was on the ground panting.

“Did I get you, Matt?” the psycho yelled. “I almost hope I didn’t. I want to peel the skin off you one strip at a time.” There was another flurry of gunshots from down the street, and Razor abruptly swore bitterly. “Forget this, everyone break free and head south! We’ll regroup by the stream!”

Matt heard the slap of footfalls and a few more exchanged gunshots, and he finally found his wits and bolted around the house to the other side. He was in time to see Razor and most of his gang break left down a street and burst into a sprint to put as much distance between them and their pursuit as possible, disappearing out of sight before Matt could lift his gun to point at a target.

He was so focused on the gang leader that he almost didn’t notice the man vaulting the fence behind him, the one he’d shot at but hadn’t hit.

Whirling, Matt didn’t have time to properly aim and just sprayed bullets in that direction. By some miracle one hit the thug in the chest and he went down with a cry, and Matt rushed over and kicked the gun from his hand, then stood over the man as he gurgled and twitched for a few moments before going still.

It was horrible, watching him die. Even though Matt had acted in self defense and had little doubt about whether this man deserved his fate, the horrific sight was enough to turn his stomach. He staggered a few steps away and fell, retching.

Calls from the street, voices he recognized, dragged him back to his senses. Matt lurched back to his feet and stumbled over to pick up the dead man’s gun, then went in search of the other thug he’d shot to make sure he was dead as well and collect his weapon.

He almost got shot in the process, as Catherine and a dozen Aspen Hill residents moved down the street in pursuit of Razor. Chauncey, clutching a shotgun that might’ve been claimed from the man Matt had killed by the truck, had seen him and instinctively opened fire.

“Don’t shoot!” Matt yelled as the fence beside him blew apart. He hastily stood from his inspection of the dead gang member and let the man’s gun, along with his Glock, drop from his hands. “It’s me, I’m on your side!”

“Matt?” Chauncey said, hastily pointing his shotgun at the ground. The former teacher went white as he realized what he’d almost done. “Matt, I-I didn’t think. I just—”

“It’s fine,” Matt said, feeling slightly dizzy now as well as nauseous as his panicked mind worked its way to a full realization of what had almost happened. “I should’ve let you know I was here.”